With tears streaming down her face and a jar clutched to her chest, she entered the room. A hush fell over the crowd, when her presence became known to them. She searched the full room, sifting through the see of people with her watery eyes. Her eyes found his, and all else in the room faded. The whispers of the men in the room, the judgmental glances...
all but his face faded from her view.
She knew who she was. She knew she was not worthy even to walk in the same room as this man. The world around her had made it very clear just what she was worth. None of that mattered at this moment, though.
None of it.
She had been listening to the teachings of this man. He kept saying he had come for the lost, the sinner, the unworthy, the forgotten. He said he came to rescue the forgotten.
That was her.
Tears fell fresh as she began her humble walk to where he rested. He kept his eyes on her, as if he knew why she had come, as if he had been waiting for her.
Had he been waiting for her?
She moved forward, stepping around people who refused to move. She heard the whispers in the quiet room, she knew every eye was on her. Still, she pressed forward. The closer she came to this man, to the Master, the more her heart began to break open. She reached him, and knelt before him, with that jar of her best clutched close. His eyes stayed on hers, never wavering. She saw no judgment in his face. She saw the only thing she had desperately sought her whole life. She saw acceptance. With a gentle smile and slight nod of his head, she proceeded to do the only thing she could.
She poured all she had over the feet of the King.
Her tears fell on her hands, and on his feet as she washed them. In that moment, every wound in her soul seemed to break open. In that moment, every memory, every pain, every word spoken to her...all of it seemed to break open and pour out over the feet of the Master. She had never been enough, never been the chosen. She had always been the afterthought. He was the first one to say any different.
He was the first to want her just the way she was.
The crowd gasped as she uncovered her head. With shaky hands, she used her long, thick hair to wipe his feet clean. Her tears continued to fall into her hair, on her hands, over his feet. She heard the pharisees whispering their condemnation. She felt the stunned silence of the Master's followers. She knew that no one in this room would approve of her, but it didn't matter. She was washing the feet of the Master.
When she had at last finished, with hair hanging wet around her face, she leaned in and softly pressed her lips to the feet of the King. She felt his hands come around her head then, and felt him gently pull her face up to look at his.
"What has she done?" someone demanded. "Doesn't he know who she is?!"
"Leave her alone. She has done a beautiful thing." he replied in a broken whisper.
He leaned in and gently kissed her forehead, then looked her in the eyes again as he spoke. "This woman will be remembered for all of eternity because of this moment." She closed her eyes, then, as her weeping came in waves again. She would be remembered. At last, she would be among those chosen, not forgotten.
She would never be forgotten.
She looked into his eyes one last time and heard the words that restored every shattered piece of her soul.
"You are forgiven. Go in peace."
She left that place a new woman. All her life had been a fight to be noticed, to be wanted, to be chosen...but no more. At last her heart had found a home, a place to rest,
a place to belong.
The King had chosen her, and promised to remember her,
"Truly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her."